Strength to Love Him Forever
by sarahandmarquis
Summary: The picnic scene as it should have gone. Based on the Yeston/Kopit mini-series staring Charles Dance and Teri Polo.


Author's Note:

Dear Readers,

This is a Charles Dance one-shot, fixing the unmasking scene. I wrote this with a friend of mine from Wattpad (I don't think she has a username). Both she and I _LOVE_ Dance and this one-shot is our testing out how well we write together. Enjoy!

sarahandmarquis

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Disclaimer: I do not own the 1990 POTO. I cry over this frequently.

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Water dripped in the caverns beyond the lake and echoed over the water towards the odd little windowpane-less house. The blue light, reflecting from lanterns off the lake, bounced and lit Christine's face as she leaned on a window sill and watched the play of ripples from the droplets falling from the stone ceiling across the surface of the water.

The sounds of a flute caught her attention, drawing her to pick-up a candelabra and go in search of the beautiful playing. Following the sound, she left the lake front room and went deeper into the darkness of the house, finding the door from which the sound emanated. Opening it, she peered around the door and saw a beautiful baby grand piano and, standing beside it, her unmasked Maestro with his back turned towards her and his mask resting on the lid of the baby grand.

Having heard her approach, Erik cut the piece short and quickly set down his flute. Without turning to her, he reached to his side and brought the mask to his face. Pivoting to face her as he tied the ribbons in the back of his hair, he spoke, attempting to break the ice.

"Good morning! Did you sleep well? I like that room. Good cozy bed, pleasant water view." He paused for a moment hoping for her to say something. When she didn't, he continued. "Well, what should we do today? Hm?" He clapped his hands together. "I have an idea, how about a picnic?"

Christine stared at him incredulously and laughed quietly.

"A picnic?"

"Yes! Down through the woods, there's a quiet little spot I know, we won't be interrupted there and while we stroll, I can show you where I live! My, domain!" He walked over to his dresser choosing a dashing straw hat with a large black ribbon tied around its base. "Hat, do you think? Formal touch?"

She only stood and looked at him which made his nerves a little more uneasy.

"Hm? Yes, I think so too. And of course, a walking cane." He paused to smile briefly at her. "And to complete our little outing," he paused again to tap the pre-made wicker picnic basket with the end of his long black cane. "Voila." He walked gracefully to Christine's side offering her his arm.

"Shall we go?" He asked smoothly all the while his nerves fought to get the better of him. She hesitated for a second, before accepting his arm while gently smiling. As her hand curled around his arm, his heart raced. Desperately hoping she couldn't hear the pounding, he lead her to the french doors and waited for them to open of their own accord, another one of his many 'magic' tricks. Without the barrier of the doors, the music from the practice on the upper floors of the opera house increased in volume, providing the perfect feel for his intended arrangement.

Strong and confident, he lead her from the house and around the edge of the lake. After passing through several stone caverns, lodged deep in the bowels of the Opera House, they reached the large stone arch. As they crossed into the forested space before them, he attempted to make conversation again.

"Do you like these woods of mine?" He started.

"Yes, very much." She replied, staring around them at the large stand of trees that spread beneath the Opera House.

"They stretch on almost forever." He replied. "Come, there's a path over here. One can get quite hopelessly lost if one does not know the path." He stopped and turned to look at her, "Or have guide who does." He finished with a childish chuckle, taking a second to draw a breath before continuing with his words.

"Once upon a time, before I planted all this, there were only endless dreary vaults in this land." He mentioned, guiding them through the tangled vines which splayed across the forest floor. "Gloomy barren corridors with a wilderness of stone. No life at all, no love," he paused and turned to look at her again. She was higher than him due to the uneven elevation of the ground, causing him to tilt his head back slightly to see her beautiful sapphire eyes. "No loving kindness." He finished wistfully, losing himself in her eyes, her perfectly shaped mesmerizing eyes. One could be lost forever in them if only given the chance. However, he was only lost for a moment as he continued.

"Are you warm enough?" He inquired glancing her up and down once before moving his hand to politely take hers. Only for the purposes of safely leading her of course. Oh how he wished to hold her hand out of courtship. This is not courtship. I know that all too well. Simply being in her glowing presence was enough to keep him going for the rest of his days. He would have to be completely satisfied with that and that alone. For he also knew that there was no chance of her ever loving him the way he so wholeheartedly loved her.

His blue-gray eyes locked on hers and she barely managed to mumble,

"Yes."

Nodding, he turned slightly before perking his head up.

"Shh!" he said gesturing to the trees. "The morning birds." Christine eyed him suspiciously, the set of her jaw revealing her new-found discomfort in his words. What is he talking about? They're fake! There are no real birds. Doesn't he know? He nodded again to her and led her a little deeper, being careful to avoid roots and brush, as well as be sure she also cleared them safely.

"Hm. Pheasant too I hear. And deer, squirrels, foxes, rabbits, all playing most harmoniously." He stated. He knew they weren't alive. Well, part of him did at least. I want to impress her with how real everything could be here. It may be a stone prison, but it can have as much beauty and life as above as long as there is imagination, and Christine.

"Like this magic music. You are magic too, I think." He said, turning to address her again.

"No, no, I don't think that." She replied, blushing faintly and attempting to correct his misconceptions about herself.

"Oh yes you are." He said, cutting her off and daring to reach a hand forward to affectionately nudge her hands, resting together at her waist. "I know. Magic is my friend. Magic cannot hide from me." He continued decidedly. "You belong here." He contemplated, turning to start down the narrow path again. "Do you like this music?"

"Yes, yes, very much." She said, her eyes following him as she attempted to ignore the stuffed deer in plain sight and dead birds hiding among the branches. For his sake, I shall try to imagine them as something close to real.

"Do you know why?" He asked. She shrugged, lifting her hands in ignorance. "Because, it helps give shape to our dreams. In fact, I call this domain my dreamery. Do you find that apt?"

"Yes." She attempted to catch up with his brain and follow along as if she actually understood his words.

"Apt to what?" He asked and leaned in slightly closer to her face, searching her eyes for her not yet spoken answer.

"Well, apt," She hesitated and glanced away from his peering eyes before creating an answer almost from thin air, "to what you wish." Only then, did she dare to catch his eyes again.

"Exactly so." he said, satisfied with her response. He nodded slightly and turned to go on."Hm. Come!"

A white-feathered barn owl stared at her through the tree branches, relentless glass eyes fixed on her. A bluejay, with a berry in his mouth, clung to the branches of one of the trees. The music never ceased, seeping down to the cavern, setting Christine on edge. He is so oddly happy. He believes in the reality of this place.

"We'll set our picnic, here." He said, laying out the soft blanket, as she wandered about the dark forest. He knelt down on both knees and, removing his hat, he began to unload the stuffed basket.

"Please," he addressed her gesturing to a spot across the blanket from himself. "Sit down!" He paused, flipping open the picnic basket."Of all the places in my realm, this is the most enchanted spot, I think." He said pulling a small pie out of the basket. "And what have we here? Voila." He set it down between them.

"Would you sing for me?" He asked innocently.

"If you wish." She replied, her eyes wandering to the white mask, nearly glowing as if struck by a spotlight in the odd blue light which filtered through the tree branches.

"I do. Very much." He said, setting aside the porcelain bowls and anticipating her angelic voice. When she did not sing he began to worry slightly. "I'm sorry, is there something wrong?" He asked, glancing towards the picnic for a second and wondering if something was missing.

"If I sing for you, wi- will you grant me a favor?" She asked, her voice cracking for an instant as she broached the idea to herself. Should I even ask? I want to know, don't I? Ending her question with a smile, she tried to assure him with her expression that she meant no harm.

"No." He replied, not hesitating for a second, and began to once more unload the basket of dishes.

"Why not?" She quietly demanded.

"Because, you must sing for love and joy! Not for gain!" He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and she should know it very well. "I will grant you a favor regardless of what you do." He continued glancing at her before returning his attention to unpacking their picnic. "Tell me what it is you wish." He stated simply.

"Let me see your face." She tried to infuse the request with the intensity that would hopefully turn him to acquiesce. The moment the words passed her lips, he froze, black-rimmed eyes drifting up to look into her eyes. Unable to speak for a moment, he drew a deep breath to gather his thoughts and words to inform her, in the most gentle way possible that he couldn't. Can I show to this perfect angel the horror beneath this mask? No, I cannot.

"You have asked, I'm afraid, the only thing in my power that I cannot grant." He murmured, slowly lowering his gaze till it rested on the floor. "Please don't ask it again." He finished timidly.

"I have seen your eyes, and I know your heart. Why not let me know your face as well?" The rejection stung slightly, his obvious distrust in her hurting her pride, but she pressed on, pursuing the goal with fervent zeal. Why does he hide his face?

"Because," he paused, trying desperately to think of a way to explain to her why she could never under any circumstances see it. I know she could never love me, but our friendship has been going alright thus far. I can at least cling to that hope, can I not? "Because I have no face, I have, only the semblance of a face."

His eyes became saddened and still further downcast if such a thing was possible, their haunted depths revealing that his heart was breaking. "And no one should ever have to look at it." he finished solemnly.

"Oh but I could look at it!" She insisted. I could look at your face and still find you beautiful. You have been so good to me.

"No. Stop." He said attempting to cut her off.

"But I could!"

"No! I ask you please to, stop…" He said, his voice beginning to falter even as he raised the volume.

"Only if you say you do not love me will I stop." She said, despite the fact it was perhaps the lowest form of coercion. Perhaps he doesn't care for me in this way but, it is all the power I have.

Coming to a loss for words he looked about in a calm frenzy. Love her? Not love her? Is the girl mad? Of course, I love her! My love for her keeps me from revealing my face to her! My mother was the only person in the world to love my face... Not even my own father can claim me because of it… She does not know what she requests. Stuttering slightly, he began to fish for something to say.

"I- I feel a chill descending, I- I think we ought to go, it feels like rain." You imbecile, it cannot rain at the pit of the opera house! If she didn't think you mad before she certainly will now!

"Maestro please!" She exclaimed, rising on her knees to gently grab his wrist, hoping to stop him from packing away the picnic. "You have given me so much." Let me give you this. Let me show you the love you deserve!

"You do not know what you are asking." He assured her, trying to diffuse the spark which had been lit inside her mind.

"Yes I do! If you love me, please let me love you too." He attempted to continue putting away the food he had so happily prepared, the disappointment of the failed picnic nothing compared to the panic that her request had awoken, but she gently tightened her grip on his arm.

"No don't do that! I know your face can be looked at by someone who loves you! Please let me show you it's true!" She pleaded with him.

"Oh Christine!" he whispered in his deep silky voice. "This time with you," he hesitated trying to come up with the right words... Do I dare risk jinxing my only heaven? "It's the nearest I have ever been to bliss! I'm satisfied with that."

"Oh, but there's more!" She cried, her heart going out to him at the thought of all he was missing by contenting himself with the distant friendship and teacher-ship they had between each other.

"Yes, I'm sure, but not for me!" He looked into her pleading eyes, struggling with denying her anything. I must protect her for both our sakes!

"I ask nothing that has not already been done! Your mother saw your face and smiled, if love could let her gaze at you and smile, could it not do the same for me?" Leaning forward, she refused to release his eyes from hers, attempting to show him her willingness to endure whatever his appearance may be in order to love him the man beneath the mask.

Surrendering to her pleas, Erik bowed his head slightly, gathering his courage to destroy everything beautiful he had in his life. He slowly raised his hand to the back of his head. He felt around through his thick hair until his fingers grasped the ribbons of his mask and tugged at them. Feeling them come loose, he put his hand over his mask so it would not fall off.

With one last brief glance at Christine, his last time to see her smile beam so brightly, or her eyes shine so beautifully, he closed his eyes tight and braced himself for her reaction as he lowered the piece of porcelain from his face.

Shock froze Christine in place as she stared at the black mangled mess that was the face of her beloved Maestro. All his pain, all his struggles, because of this. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and she reached forward to pull him into her arms, cradling his head against her shoulder.

"Oh, Maestro..." She whispered.

Confused, Erik leaned against her keeping his eyes shut tight. He began to tremble slightly, any attempts to still himself were met with failure. He could feel the moisture beginning to gather in his eyes. Why does she remain silent! I cannot bear the suspense! When will she run from me? When will she scream in terror? Trying to keep his voice void of all emotion he slowly choked out,

"Christine... Christine what are you doing?"

"Holding you." She whispered, the shattering sounds of her own breaking heart audible in her voice. Her fingers found their way into his hair and lightly ran through the thick dark strands. "Thank you." Her voice choked for a moment before she gently turned his face to look at hers, giving him a happy, if a bit watery, smile.

Erik expected many things as he looked up. She's smiling...How can she be smiling? This is impossible. But...it's real. The tears he'd been fighting so hard to keep away finally overcame him and he collapsed into her. Sobbing, he tried to think of anything he could possibly say to this heaven-sent angel in response to her unbelievable compassion, but words failed him.

Watching her acceptance break his fortitude, she hugged him close, pressing kisses into his hair, whispering affectionate nonsense into his ear to comfort him, and lightly rubbing his back.

What am I supposed to do? Do I pat her back? Am I to simply sit here and accept it? He chose the latter and simply lay there, huddled in Christine's warm embrace while he desperately tried to accept that everything surrounding them existed in the real world and not some dream land of his own creation. I am loved. This is all I ever wanted and it is mine.

She knew all that he'd done by now. She knew his demon that he couldn't help or hide anymore. And still she held him. Kissed his head with soft, perfect kisses. She could only come from heaven.

"Oh Christine..." He whispered into her dress, which was now soaked with both of their tears. "Christine, I love you..." He sang softly, his voice cracking at the end and throwing him into another fit of sobs. How else am I to tell her? I know only music yet even that is not coming out clear. Clinging to her as though she were a lifeline, he gave up attempting to give more than the broken whisper of a monster's affection.

She quietly hushed him, lightly patting his head and giving his hair another kiss before planting one on his forehead.

"I know. And, I love you." She replied, smiling down at him before beginning to softly hum to him. It will take courage, she thought to herself, but I'm willing. I stood up to Carlotta. I have the strength to love him forever.


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